


Flash Photography [Ryden]

by thatgreencj



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Asshole Brendon Urie, Bottom Ryan, Bottom Ryan Ross, Check me out on Wattpad, Dank memes are the best memes, Famous Brendon Urie, M/M, Model Ryan Ross, My Wattpad Is second-hand-lovers, Pls im lonely, Top Brendon Urie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 18:40:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10724967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgreencj/pseuds/thatgreencj
Summary: Ryan is a virgin model for suggestive magazines. Brendon is a suggestive musician for virgin teen Fangirls. Their paths evidently cross when Patrick and Jon set them up to be in an 'adult film' together.Trigger warnings so far: sexual mentions (woah), sexual industries(Disclaimer: this is fiction and is all false. I wrote this story but the plot came from a wide range of inspiration and the characters are the lovely Ryan Ross and Brendon Urie)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As said in my lame tags, check out my Wattpad where this is also posted Second-hand-lovers. I am low-key obsessed with Ryden so yknow... Enjoy the story!

Flash!

Ryan bit his lip as the camera took another picture. He was currently sitting on an all-white couch, on his knees. He put his hand to his chin and looked away as if he was shy. Of course he wasn't shy, no. He was posing with only a black, fluffy robe covering him. Ryan has never done nude photoshoots since he was too modest. Well, as modest as a model could be will doing suggestive 'shoots.

The camera flashed one more time before Jon put it down. "Okay, Ryan. Can you go and stand over against the white backdrop?" He asked, pointing to mentioned backdrop. Ryan nodded and stood up. His ruffled hair added to the suggestion that he had sex when, in reality, he doesn't even know how sex works. Well, he does, but not for pleasure.

He stood in front of the backdrop, clutching his robe's belt. Spencer ran over and added some more blush to his upper cheeks. As if he needed it. Being a model for almost a year didn't make him the most experienced, but he knew how to make faux faces and faux looks.

"What now?" Ryan questioned. Jon placed his camera on the tripod and knelt lower. 

Jon angled the camera so it seemed like a lower view, looking up at the model. "Turn around and slip the robe down your shoulders. As if it was a strip tease," Jon directed. Ryan did so, facing the backdrop. He placed his left leg and bent it, placing his left foot on the other side of his right. The robe slipped down, exposing the milky skin of his shoulder blades.

A few clicks of the camera and he was being arranged again. Spencer rushed in and fluffed up Ryan's hair and dusted the robe off for any stray hairs.

"Mkay. Put the robe back on correctly and make sure part of your chest shows. Not much, no nipple. Only the split down as if you were wearing one of your v necks," he demanded. Ryan did so. "Okay, now chin high but glare down at the camera. Smirk."

Ryan continued to follow the orders. His smirk adorned his already beautiful face. Jon snapped a few more pictures before standing up. He put the lens cap on the camera and fixed his shirt. "Can I get changed, Jon?" Ryan requested.

Jon nodded and waved his hand submissively. "I wanna talk to you, Ryan. Come to my office before you leave," he told the model. The boy nodded and quickly shuffled to the changing rooms. He slipped into his boxers, black jeans, and white v neck. As he slipped on his socks, Spencer sauntered over.

"Gosh, I wish you would let me do your full makeup one day," he sighed, pouring. Ryan shrugged and smiled at the boy. Spencer had been bugging him for the time he had been there to let him do Ryan's makeup. Not just his usual blush and eyeliner, no; Spencer was taking full on eyeshadow, highlighter, gloss, you name it. 

Ryan slipped on his converses. "Maybe when Jon wants me to be on an issue of Femboy Weekly, you know?" He laughed. Spencer rolled his eyes but couldn't help but chuckle, too.

"I gotta get going but I'll see you next week!" Spencer dismissed himself. Ryan just continued to lace up his shoes. He brushed his hair down and made his way to Jon's office.

He knocked on the mahogany door. "Hey, it's me," Ryan said through the wood. The door flew open a moment later and Jon ushered him in.

"So you know Stump's industry, right?" Jon asked. Of course Ryan did; Patrick Stump was known for his various porn films. Jon and him were one of the best known camera wielders known in New York. 

"Of course, why?" Ryan pushed. It could just be another story of another porn star joining the modeling ring who, after realizing it's not easier than porn, will quit a week later.

The photographer licked his chapped lips. "He wants you to do a film."

Ryan just stared. And stared. He has never had sex and now Jon wants him to do porn? "Are you trading me over to him?" Ryan gaped.

"What? No! You're my best! Course not! He just wants a pretty new face. It's a one time thing. You will be with another ameteur, not-so-ameteur costar," Jon scoffed, as if he was offended at the thought of trading his best model. Ryan groaned and crossed his right leg over his left knee. 

"Tell him no; I have no interest in losing my virginity on camera," he grimaced. The bearded man tapped his fingers on the desk.

He sighed. "How about this: You do this one film and, along with the cash you get from the film itself, a bonus in your next photoshoot," he smirked. Ryan bit his lip. He already had a nice loft on the good side of Manhattan as well as commas in his bank account, but what harm could some extra cash do?

"Jesus, I'll think about it. I don't want to rush in and accept without details. Set up a coffee meet up tomorrow at that local cafe so we can discuss. I want to meet the possible costar along with her agent and Patrick," Ryan gave in. So what if he would have sex with a hot girl on screen? Better than being fucked by some guy. Since he came out a few months ago as bi, he's had dudes begging to stretch him out.

Each one was denied, of course.

He soon left after discussing they would meet at Culture Espresso, some top rated coffee shop, at ten in the morning the next day.

Ryan strolled down the few blocks to his fair sized loft apartment. The strong scent of vanilla hit him as he unlocked the door. He set his satchel and keys on the island in the kitchen once he kicked his shoes off. Porn? He didn't know how to act on camera. He would be working with a girl who, most likely, has been fucked by skilled guys. All Ryan could hope for as he collapsed into his bed that night was that his costar would be a cute girl. Preferably blonde.

≈

Ryan dressed good that morning. He put on a black button up with the top button undone and paired it with some ash gray skinny jeans. He put a white sheer scarf to add style to his outfit. The black faux-leather boots that went halfway up his calf gave him a spring in his walk. A black fedora and aviator sunglasses made him look like he belonged on the well known side of New York. He lived in the part of Manhattan that makes you think of expensive apartments and condos, bustling streets, and expensive stores. He could easily afford it, too. His modeling job not only gave him money from photoshoots but being on numerous catwalks and talk shows, too.

His satchel was slung over his shoulder as he walked briskly to the cafe. There weren't many people insult due to the lull in business and he was glad. It was two minutes before ten, and Jon was already sat at a four seated table in the corner. Ryan pushed open the door and made his way to his photographer. "Walker," he greeted the man.

"Ross," Jon greeted back. Ryan sat himself down in one of the soft seats. A waitress came over and stood by the table, pen and paper in hand.

"Welcome to Culture Espresso, I'm Paisley. What would you like?" She inquired. Ryan couldn't help but give her a once over. Her white blouse did little to hide her B cup chest. Not too big, but Ryan didn't go for busty girls. The black skirt did accent her curves, though. Ryan propped his elbow on the table and his chin in the palm of his hand. He gave the girl a smirk and narrowed his eyes.

"Medium mocha, three sugars and vanilla creamer," he ordered. The girl scribbled it down, her platinum blonde hair bouncing in her ponytail as she nodded. Paisley glanced at Jon.

Jon simply waved his hand. "Coffee, black," he murmured. The girl winked at Ryan and went behind the counter to fix their orders up. Not less than ten seconds after she went back, the door chimed. The brunette looked over to see Patrick with a boy. Ryan frowned. Did the girl not arrive? Was this her agent? A glare from the sun blocked the one boy's face and taking off his sunglasses didn't so shit.

The duo sat down across from them. "Ryan! So nice to see you," Patrick smiled. Ryan finally glanced over at the boy and almost choked on air.

It was Brendon fucking Urie. He was famous for his family's fortune. He had two released songs that brought even more worth to his name. Why the fuck was he here?

"Hey, Patrick," he mumbled back to the strawberry blonde. Ryan directed his gaze from Brendon to Patrick then back to Brendon. "Ryan, pleasure to meet you," Ryan introduced himself to Brendon. He held his hand out which Brendon shook casually. He took off his own sunglasses and looked at Ryan. His hair flopped against his forehead. The man looked as if he was carefree and wasn't meeting up to discuss a porn film.

"Brendon, good t'meet you, too," he muttered. The waitress came over with the coffees at that moment. Ryan took his mocha and placed it on the table so it could cool. Jon grabbed his with a small thanks to Paisley. 

"Welcome to Culture Espresso. I'm Paisley. What would you like?" She repeated the line to the other two boys.

Brendon spoke first, his deep voice like silk. "Vanilla frap, two sugars, extra milk," he told the blonde. She jotted it down and glanced at Patrick.

"The usual, sir?" She asked him. The man nodded. Paisley ran back off to the area behind the counter.

"So, Patrick, how are you?" Jon questioned. Patrick shrugged and sighed.

He mumbled, "Exhausted. We had to reshoot this scene because the girl kept complaining about her broken fake nail. Thank God I won't have to work with her for another month." Jon nodded and sipped the coffee slowly.

"Um, so when's the girl getting here?" Ryan asked. Patrick looked at Jon and laughed. Jon snickered, too. Brendon just gave the brunette an amused look. "What?" Ryan blushed.

"Ryan," Patrick finally said after calming down, "Brendon's your co-star."

Ryan blinked for a moment before gasping. "You expect me to do a porn film with him?" He gaped. Brendon bit his lip to obviously keep from smiling. Ryan hated him already. 

"I mean, I am pretty good in bed," Brendon smirked. Ryan scoffed and sipped his mocha.

"Did Jon not tell you that you would work with a man?" Patrick chuckled. Ryan grew red with both embarrassment and fury. 

"No. I get to top, though, right?" Ryan frowned. Jon's amused eyes met the model's for a moment.

"Ryan, you have such a thin and slim body. You think I'm going to have a hetero film with you topping?"  Patrick snorted.

Ryan groaned. "Fuck you guys."

"So will you still be doing the film? I mean, you get to suck on this, I'm sure," Brendon said. He kicked Ryan's foot lightly under the table.

"I guess," Ryan sighed. Backing down would be ridiculous at this point. The strawberry blonde smirked at Jon and held his hand out to Ryan.

"Good to have you joining our section of the industry," he smiled. Ryan shook his hand slowly and rolled his eyes. Ryan knew he would regret this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait I'm so sorry here is the next chapter. I usually update it on my Wattpad first! Italics shows up on Wattpad, too.

Brendon fixed the straps if his gray tank top and dusted off the matching drawstring sweats. They discussed having the dinner at Patrick's place which was close to Central park. Brendon's condo was close to it, thank God. He would rather parachute to the apartment than walk more than fifteen minutes to it. 

He made his way out of his condo and down the sidewalk. The busy sounds of cars passing, people shouting, and wind blowing were just white noise to him. Brendon has lived in the city for three years; of course he was used to it.

As he started to make his way down the sidewalk and towards Patrick's building, his phone rang. He groaned and pulled it out of his pocket, answering it. "Hey," he muttered into the mouthpiece.

"Where are you?" A familiar voice whined. Dallon. Dallon was his on-again-off-again boyfriend who, at this moment, was off-again. 

"I'm going to a friend's, why?" Brendon replied. 

Dallon sighed. "I miss you and I'm sorry. I didn't know that you didn't like him!" He cried dramatically into the phone. Brendon rolled his eyes and continued walking. Dallon continued for another three minutes before taking a moment to breathe. It felt more like hours to Brendon.

"Hey, I forgive you. I gotta go. Talk later, K?" Brendon kept his eyes on the sidewalk. 

"K." Dallon hung up. Brendon sighed tiredly. His thoughts wandered to Ryan, Patrick, and Jon. The dinner was supposed to have Jon's makeup artist and Patrick's second cameraman.

The sky-high, brick apartment building came into view. It wasn't too fancy, but it wasn't run-down either. Hurried people continued to rush past Brendon. A tall man came out of the building and Brendon took the chance to get in without ringing up to Patrick.

Once in, cool air hit him. It was Autumn for fucks sake, why can't they put heat on? Granted, he did walk out of the house in a tank top. The lobby of the apartment complex was simple and clean. Once Brendon entered the elevator, though, he gaped at the golden interior. He knew that the buttons were gold but not the rest of the elevator.

Brendon pressed the '7' and the elevator groaned before slowly climbing the stories. The gold doors opened to reveal a short hallway that lead to a single door. Laughter was heard, even from where he was standing. He shook his head and shuffled to the door.

The door was thrown open before Brendon could even knock. Patrick, in a purple tee and white jeans, was standing in the doorway. "Nice of you to join us, Brendon," he sighed, "ten minutes late."

Brendon shrugged and pushed his way inside of the apartment. "Sorry, I got a phone call that kinda stalled me. Anywho, what's for dinner?" He smiled as he walked into the large apartment. The door led into the living room, so he took a seat on the plush, white couch.

"Is Brendon here?" a voice down the hallway yelled. Patrick yelled back a quick 'yeah' before heading down the hallway. A few moments later, Jon, Ryan, and Patrick were flooding into the living room. "Hey, Brendon!" Jon greeted him. He nodded a feeble greeting and glanced around the room. It had gray walls and white furniture. Most decor was either glass or black-painted wood.

A man came in after them who he assumed was Pete, considering he was holding a blue binder labeled "Shots". Everyone took a seat. Ryan and Jon sat by Brendon, Ryan sandwiched in the middle. Pete and Patrick sat on the shorter couch across the glass coffee table. "Hey, I'm Pete Wentz. I figured that we can work on what shots and angles would work best before dinner. Ryan, Brendon, why don't you flip through this binder and take a look at these?"

Ryan nodded slightly and took the binder from Pete's grip. Brendon sat back and looked over Ryan's hunched shoulders to see the shots. He knew about porn, of course he did, so he knew how the shots would look. Ryan, on the other hand, was a virgin and probably hasn't watched a porno in years, if even. The brunette's face grew paler and paler as he flipped through the binder. Once he reached the end, he abruptly shut it and tossed it at Pete.

"What the fuck, you expect me to do those poses?" he spat. Brendon rolled his eyes and smirked. "They all look painful as fuck!"

Pete chuckled, his laugh deep. "Ryan, those would only be hard for a virgin. Or someone who hasn't fucked anyone in a month. You probably get all the ladies and dudes."

The room went silent. Jon stared at the oh-so-interesting lamp next to Patrick, Patrick adjusted his hat more than it needed to be adjusted, Brendon just continued his staring at Ryan, and Ryan fiddled with his fingers. Pete looked confused for a moment.

"What, did I say something? Sorry, are you fully gay? The, uh, interviews all said you were, um, well, bisexual. Sorry, I-I didn't mean to come off as bad or anything. Or was it the 'fucked anyone in a month thing'? It wasn't serious, dude. I mean--"

"I'm a virgin," Ryan huffed. His face had flooded with color once again. Brendon noticed out of the corner of his eye that Jon was patting and rubbing Ryan's back. 

"Oh. Oh. Sorry, man. I assumed you weren't a virgin because you're doing porn. Are you seriously willing to pop your ass cherry on film? Never had that before, but it will enhance the emotion!" Pete rambled. Ryan grimaced.

Patrick laughed into his hand. "C'mon, Pete, don't scare the kid. And don't use ass cherry, it sounds weird as hell," he chuckled. The cameraman was about to respond when the oven beeped loudly, stopping all conversation.

"I'll get it!" Ryan announced. He rushed out of the room quickly, his long legs carrying him to the kitchen.

"Yeah, this is hella awkward. I'll go help Ryan," Brendon mumbled, briskly standing up and walking out of the room. He followed the long, dimly-lit hallway until he saw an open walkway. He peeked in and saw Ryan squatting down to check whatever was in the oven. "Hey, Ross, need help?"

Ryan jumped and hit his knee on the open oven door. "Fuck! Don't scare me like that, damn!" he huffed. After a moment, he added a mumbled, "Just go stir the pasta."

Brendon nodded and stood by the stove where the taller boy was checking the temperature of what looks like a meatloaf. He grabbed a large stirring spoon and swirled it around the pot. After glancing in, he realized it was bowtie noodles. Ryan pushed himself off the ground and slammed it shut, making Brendon jump. "You okay?"

"Yep, fine. I just thought Patrick would have explained it to Pete. Guess not." Ryan opened a drawer by the sink and dropped the thermometer in. "I hope you're okay with meatloaf and alfredo. I was gonna make seafood but I think someone in there doesn't like seafood or something." The oven mitt he had slipped off was roughly thrown onto the marble countertop.

"I'm actually a vegetarian but I don't really care." Brendon shrugged, continuing to stir the noodles. Ryan groaned and leaned against the countertop, crossing his arms. He crossed his long right leg slightly over his left one.

"For fucks sake. You'll be stuck with alfredo shit then." he pouted. Brendon was hit with a pang of guilt. Ryan didn't know that he didn't eat meat, but that wasn't Brendon's fault. It would actually be Patrick's fault since he knew.

"Uh, thats- thats fine. Like I said, I don't care. Anyways, how did you get into modeling?" Brendon swerved the direction of the conversation. Maybe Ryan would cheer up?

Nope. He just grimaced. "I ran away from home the day I turned eighteen. My friend I met online, Gee, let me hang at his place for a while. He said that he knew a photographer, Jon, and that I would be a good model. Long story short, I got famous."

"Oh." was all the shorter boy could say.

"I would ask how you became a singer, but I read all about it on last week's issue of Snooty Rich Boy monthly." Ryan retorted. Brendon chuckled and glanced at the ground, finally putting the spoon on the counter. "Your dad owns a shitload of cafes. You wanted to be famous. You released two semi-decent singles. You have an album now with ten songs that you repeatedly perform on stage. Congrats, you're famous."

Brendon pursed his lips and looked at the ceiling. "That's not even close but thanks for the effort."

"I don't see why I should get to know someone who will just take my virginity and will be out of my life within the next month."

"I don't see why you shouldn't."

Brendon and Ryan just glared at each other; Ryan's glare was piercing and mean while Brendon's was snarky and playful.

"Asshole," the taller muttered, standing upright and shuffling over to the fridge. "Want a soda?"

"Yes please." Brendon smiled, strutting over to where Ryan was. "I wonder what sodas Patrick has."

\--

They were all seated around the rectangular dining room table. Ryan and Brendon were on one side, Patrick and Pete on the other, and Jon and Spencer, the new addition, at the heads of the table. Everyone had a plate of meatloaf and pasta except for Brendon who only had a bowl of pasta.

"You're a good cook, Ross," Pete mumbled through a mouthful. Ryan stiffened, obviously grossed out, but smiled anyways.

"Thank you, Wentz."

"I've seen your magazines. You'll be a natural at this. You must be used to cameras." Pete swallowed and sipped his wine.

Ryan grimaced and looked at his food. He hates being in front of cameras if they are recording him. At least photos don't usually catch mistakes like videos do. "Yeah."

The conversation stops and the only sound is the clinking of silverware on plates and the occasional slurping from Pete. Eventually, Jon broke the silence. "Uh, Patrick, where did you say the shooting location is?"

Patrick looked up from twirling the few noodles left on his plate around in sauce. He wiped his mouth and looked at Jon. "There's a house up in the suburbs close to where I used to live. I'm renting it out for a few months so we can use that."

That seemed to satisfy Jon, who nodded. "When will you start shooting?"

"Next week. I know Brendon has nothing planned, but I forgot to see if Ryan is open."

Brendon, who was listening intently, looked over at Ryan. He just shrugged and sent a look at Jon. "I have almost no say in my hours. Talk to Jon."

Jon nodded and waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, but you have to do some extra shoots for me afterwards," he smirked. Ryan smiled tightly before sipping his soda.

The rest of the dinner was spent with small talk. Brendon drifted off, thinking about his plans for tomorrow. He wanted Ryan to feel comfortable around him, safe around him. They barely know each other. So, to try and get to know each other, Brendon wanted to organize a dinner.

"Ryan," Brendon whispered. The boy whipped his head in Brendon's direction.

"Yeah?" He whispered back.

"You want to go with me for dinner tomorrow?"

Ryan thought for a moment. "Where to?"

"JoJo. I went there once with my friend, Tyler. It's French." Brendon smiled. French food was one of his favorite types of food. Ryan seemed to think it over and shrugged.

He grinned. "Sounds good, uh, great. D'you want me to dress nice but casual or nice but formal? What time? Where should we meet?" Ryan suddenly flushed, seemingly embarrassed that he started rambling.

"Uh, dress casual but really nice. It's a fancy-ish place. I already made a reservation, like, a week ago for Tyler and I, but he had a family emergency. It's for seven, so meet at the newspaper stand down the block at six forty-five. S'that good?" Brendon explained. Ryan nodded twice and stood up abruptly, taking everyone's now-empty dishes and cups into the kitchen. 

Brendon pulled his phone out and shot Tyler a text: Mind if we skip out on tomorrow? I'll make it up to you next month, promise.


End file.
